I think upon my experience in Austin with mixed emotions. I came there primarily to compete. By my performance, one would think that I'd be proud of my progress: finalist in Ballroomin' with Karissa, 3rd place in Jookin' with Julie, and a Champions Jack and Jill competitor. Yet I can't shake this thought that I could've done better. Such is the nature of my personality to care more about my performance relative to my potential rather than relative to those around me.

Watching the videos, I pour over every moment and critique my movement. I listen carefully to the judges' feedback, seeking new paths for improvement. (I received some excellent and constructive feedback -- many thanks to Damon, Heidi, and Kathy for their input.)

My spotlight in the Ballroom spotlight flopped. Just knowing I could've done better disappoints me, not matter how we placed relative to others. Karissa and I had worked so hard on refining our dance, running spotlights, preparing for the competition in technique, musicality, creativity, and structure. Then the big moment arrives and my mind draws a blank: I freeze up and stilt the performance. The all-skate went well, at least. Landing in the top six is no small feat, but I am more dissatisfied with myself because I could've done better: even if we somehow landed 1st place, my mind and heart would not be at ease.

The Jook Joint competition went smoother. I had my game face on, we connected and moved well together, and maintained a balanced performance. I was honored to place 3rd in a competition where professional couples go to cut their teeth.

The Champions Jack & Jill went quite well. J&J competitions are always my weak point, so I'm pleased with my progress. I'm working on a lot of issues regarding connection and musicality in the J&J. I tend to dance my partner rather than dance with my partner. Thanks to feedback received from SCBF and through the training weekend, it was clear that I was beginning to address these issues.

Analyzing the videos, I see all these areas that require work. I consider myself fortunate that I have dedicated dance coaches (Barry and Brenda) that guide my progress and show me ways to improve. I value their expertise, experience, and vision, and seek their feedback after every competition.

It can sometimes be difficult to maintain faith in my path. There is so much I don't understand, particularly about their interpretation of Blues dancing. At times, it feels like a terrible detriment: I isolate too much, my walking is stilted, my hips disconnect, my movement is flowery and unsupported, my pulse is still not there, the list goes on and on. I pursue a dance technique that I don't fully comprehend and must maintain faith in The Process. Then I watch Barry and Brenda move and remember why I drill esoteric technique and dance outside my circle of comfort.

The path to great dancing is a process. While there are days that I want to throw it all away and move in a style I understand, I take comfort in knowing that it's the process that makes a better dancer. By challenging yourself to tackle the unknown, you come out better for it. I appreciate the structure provided by training with Barry and Brenda, for the concrete ways in which I can refine my dance, for the inspiration I draw from watching them move. I trust in my coaches to steer me in the right direction. I aspire to the way they dance.

Sometimes I wonder why I do it. Why I invest thousands of dollars in my training with no plan to make dance my source for gainful employment. I don't have an exact answer yet; all I know is that it is something I must do. I am so compelled to strive for the best in my dance, not matter the cost. Such are the nature of passions, I suppose.

In the meantime, I need to get my ass in gear and work harder on my dance. The past three weeks were intense, but I should sustain this energy to continue training. There are so many issues to work on, and in many ways this excites me. I am headed in the right direction -- I've received feedback from enough people to know that in my heart -- but it's not close to being there yet. You can never be perfect in dance, never reach 100%, but I'd love to hit a solid 80%.

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On a side note, I am so glad I stayed Monday night in Austin. We went out to TC's Lounge, a small Jook joint with superb live music. The energy in the room, the driving music, the right amount of alcohol, the sweat and bodies crowded together and pulse of the room, it kept me dancing all night long. I just couldn't stop moving. It was inspirational: I was transported to a time when this is what you'd do every night for fun. Good times and good Blues. What a way to release all this energy from the weekend and bring close my time in Austin.

The experience reminds me of this passage from "Jazz," by Toni Morrison. I will bring this post to a close with it as a parting gift to your imagination.

"Before the lights are turned out, and before the sandwiches and spiked soda water disappear, the one managing the record player chooses fast music suitable for the brightly lit room, where obstructing furniture has been shoved against walls, pushed into the hallway, and into bedrooms piled high with coats. Under the ceiling light pairs move like twins born with, if not for, the other, sharing the partner's pulse like a second jugular. They believe they know before the music does what their hands, their feet are to do, but that illusion is the music's secret drive: the control it tricks them into believing is theirs; the anticipation it anticipates. In between record changes, while the girls fan blouse necks to air damp collarbones or pat with anxious hands damage moisture has done to their hair, the boys press folded handkerchiefs to their foreheads. Laughter covers indiscreet glances of welcome and promise, and takes the edge of gestures of betrayal and abandon." - page 64 and 65.